Gone
by XMarisolX
Summary: What are they doing? (Spoilers for Covenant)
1. Pete

  
Rated: PG   
Category: Drama   
Spoilers: Forsaken, Covenant   
**Description: I wonder what they're doing?**   
Notes: If you want the lyrics to the White Stripes "Seven Nation Army" you can...google them.   
Disclaimer: Not mine. Not mine.   
Feedback: I fiend for it.

* * *

Pete looked at the new key as he turned the lock. He had been out all morning, somehow ending up at the worst car show he had ever crossed paths with. It hadn't helped that he had been by himself and in a crappy mood. His mother had mentioned that she had a few meetings beginning at 4:00. He looked at his watch; it was 4:17 - the place was his. He walked in the door. 

"Pete," his mother called to him. She was in bummy clothes and was sprawled out on the couch. She looked like she was taking a break from a cleaning marathon. "My meetings were postponed until tomorrow. Where've you been?" 

"I went to the car show." Pete mumbled, already walking towards the steps. 

"Your sister's coming later tonight, around 7," she added. Pete started up the stairs without a word. "Pete," his mother called to him. He took his chances and kept walking. "Peter," she called again, yelling this time and he could hear her voice growing closer. He stopped in his tracks and turned around. His mother was at the bottom of the steps. 

"I figured you needed a week," she started. She was sounding like a judge. "I had no problem giving you two. But I'm not going to tolerate this forever. Do you have something to tell me?" 

Pete sighed and rolled his eyes. He didn't have anything to say. How could he possibly articulate that he thought his mother was being a selfish prick, and the only reason he didn't stay in Smallville was because the only thing worse than your parents getting a divorce before senior year was having a closet alien for a best friend. So he said nothing. 

"Pete, come here," she said, walking back towards the living room, and expecting him to follow. The last thing Pete wanted to do was talk. 

"Mom!" he yelled in frustration. "Can't you just leave it alone?" 

"No, Pete, I can't. Because regardless of your opinions on recent events, I've done too much for you for you to start treating me like the redheaded stepchild. And if your attitude doesn't get any better, you're going back with your father." 

The statement stunned Pete. He had heard other kids and other families have conversations like that, but...would it kill his mother to say "Bill?" Besides, when did he become the dispensable variable in the equation? She noticed his facial expression and gingerly moved forward, wrapping an arm around him. Her voice grew tenderer. 

"I know this is hard for you. It's not fair to you...at all. You're the baby and got the worst of it. And your father and I have to take responsibility for that. But that's just it, this marriage was _our load_, and if you take it on, you're not being fair to me, you're not being fair to Bill, and," she paused. "You're not being fair to yourself." 

On some levels Pete knew she was right, but it was too much to process right now, and this wasn't some family dramedy on the WB. He gave his mother a nod, before heading back upstairs. He could feel her looking at him as he ascended the stairs. Sometimes he wondered if he would ever have a sane moment again. 

Collapsing onto his bed, he looked at his phone, and realized that maybe he had some messages. He called his voice box and entered the pin number. 

"Hey, this is Pete - " he skipped the nauseatingly pleasant blurp and went to the messages. 

"Hey Pete, this is your dad. Call me later." He sounded...happy. Pete wondered what he wanted to say. He went on to the next message. 

The speaker erupted with a serenade of the White Stripes playing "Seven Nation Army" in his ear. If this was Clark's idea of a joke, he'd failed. "Hey Pete. I heard a song and thought about you. Anyway, how you settling in? I'll probably call you again later." Pete was actually pretty glad to hear from him. Clark had a habit of...neglecting people. "Oh and another thing, I can't find my Evanescence CD. If you still have it...," there was a pensive pause, "you can keep it." 

Next message. "Hi Pete." It was Lana. "This is Lana. I guess we're both going through some big changes, and in the madness, I managed not to give you a proper good-bye." He could picture one of her trademark grins that always punctuated her greetings and good-byes. "Anyway, I'm not getting you but I just wanted to say that I'm Paris bound in a few minutes, and I hope things work out for your in Wichita. Don't be a stranger." 

Funny. Pete hadn't thought about Lana in the thick of all his own raging thoughts of change. Well, to be honest, he had. But only that Helen-of-Troy, should-he-or-shouldn't-he Lana that Clark waxed poetry about and that Pete had spent more his life analyzing than he cared to think about. He hadn't managed to get around to the night-before-cram-sessions, patron-saint-of-caffeine Lana that he had come to know and actually regard as a friend. And despite all, thoughts of her were a silver lining in his otherwise dismal existence. He couldn't help but wonder what she was doing at this exact moment. 


	2. Lana

  
**Lana**   
_See Chapter 1 for headers._

"Miss Lang?" the woman called as she approached her seat. Lana looked up. "How have you been enjoying the film?" _Shrek 2_ wasn't really her type of movie. She had been watching it on and off. 

"Fine, thank you," Lana replied. 

"Good. My name is Tanja, and shortly we'll be serving dinner, so I would like to ask you take a look over your menu there on your right, and I'll return shortly," she started to leave, but thought again. "Is this your first time riding in first class?" she asked, reassuringly. 

"I guess I look more like a fish out of water than I thought," Lana said with a smile. 

"That's quite alright." The woman took out a small pad. "I'll quickly run over it for you. For starters we have a Mediterranean salad with pepper vinaigrette and a she-crab soup with roma tomatoes. Which would you like?" 

"I'll have the salad," Lana said. 

"Alright...tonight we are featuring three entrées: filet mignon in herb jus, salmon and seabass with zucchini saffron sauce or breast of corn-fed chicken with Port and red wine sauce. Each comes with your choice of potatoes au gratin or basmati rice and grilled vegetables or turned carrots and snap peas." 

"Wow," Lana said, a little awestruck, "um, I'll go simple. The chicken with potatoes _au gratin_." 

"Very well," Tanja said "you'll find a dessert menu also, which includes various cheeses, pastries, seasonal fruit and ice-cream with sundae or fruit toppings. I'll give you time to decide. Also, you'll notice that the bar to your left offers a full range of beverages including over ten types of soft drinks and a fine selection of wines and ale." Tanja lifted an eyebrow. "I take it you'll be availing yourself of our _non_-alcoholic beverages." Lana nodded. 

"Would you happen to have any coffee?" she asked. 

"As a matter of fact we do. If you hold on, I'll bring you a pot." With that Tanja took off. 

Lana sat back in her chair, resolved to relax, despite the jitters in her stomach. There were so many things to worry about. Even if there weren't, Nell had concocted a list that would have her awake at night long after jet leg should have worn off. 

Lana was so excited. She had never done anything so audacious, new, fulfilling or exciting in her whole life. She thought back to the night she moved in with Chloe and how timid she had been. Reflecting on those days, she laughed now at how far she had come from that little girl clinging to Nell like her life depended on it. Now she was doing something for herself. Something that would improve Lana, and make her a better and a more independent person. She didn't have to hold herself back in memory of people who would just be a memory in the end anyway. Not for her parents, not for Henry, not for Nell...and _definitely_ not for Clark. She felt a giddy anticipation like she did the first day the Talon opened. And just like then, Lex had been there, supporting her all the way. 

It was so weird. Lex had no real connection to her. Even their connection as business partners was sometimes more fantasy than fact. But, even so, Lex had always been there for her. Like a guardian angel. Not just to coddle or pity her. But to empower her, challenge her like no one else did. 

It was a little twisted, but she hoped that now that his father was finally behind bars, he was somewhere celebrating. She wondered what he was doing back in Smallville. 


	3. Lex

  
**Lex**   
_See Chapter 1 for headers._

"Mr. Luthor." Lex's intercom called to him. He walked away from the bookshelf he had been absently staring at for...an hour?...planning to entertain some reading, but only staring at the volumes. 

"Yes?" he said, turning in the direction of the phone. 

"You have 127 messages and there are 3 reporters at the door." She paused. "I would have told you sooner, but you said - " 

"I know what I said," Lex snapped. "Tell them to leave the property or be escorted out by some particularly unscrupulous security guards." 

"And your messages?" 

"They're probably all from the media?" 

"Yes," she said. "and one from the dry cleaners." 

"I have no comment, and I'm returning no calls." Lex said. The dry cleaners were on their own. 

He sauntered over to a pile of periodicals on his desk. This was the case that had college junkets and national press icons alike scrambling for classical mythology primers and writing both the most tired and inspired headlines since the last Olympic games. Oedipus seemed to be the muse of choice, although Lex had seen some creative lines featuring Icarus, Zeus and even Achilles. Despite his personal vow to avoid the droppings of a voracious media, even he had succumb to a curiosity that would forever plague him. 

Lex sat on a settee across the room. He could only describe his mood as grief. The losses were obvious, and despite all the hype, he did _not_ take delight in seeing his father incarcerated. Or his...friend that - . He couldn't finish the sentence. 

Lex didn't know what he should be feeling. But he knew that for every demon he had laid to rest today, a battalion would ambush him in its wake. He was exhausted at the thought of each and every one of his prospects. The minutest of victories had been tainted. His father was terminally ill. Chloe was endangered in every way. He was a prisoner in his own home. And Clark. 

Clark. 

It was the _coup de gras_. 

And then Lex suddenly found himself standing at his bar, decanter in hand, pouring, pouring, pouring. Just to cut an edge, slow his thoughts, make himself bearable to be around. 

He sipped slowly, the warming liquid cascading down his throat in a stinging flood that made him feel alive. 

And then... 

His throat was...Lex pulled at his tie and gasped for air...air, breath, life... 

And then the overwhelming sensation of suffocation. He clutched his throat in an ironic attempt at freeing the clenching pressure, the claustrophobia of his own trachea. 

And he fell in a slow-motion descent, crashing in a brilliant display of glass and crystal. 

His eyes dimmed, his skin tightened, his mouth parched, his flesh bled. 

His mind raced. 

Writhing in a pile of glass, he couldn't help but wonder where Chloe was at that moment. 


	4. Chloe

  
**Chloe**   
_See Chapter 1 for headers._

Chloe and Gabe plowed along in the back of a government SUV, brimming with an anticipation that was laced with foreboding. Lex's fear-inducing interrogation and very unreassuring stare played in her mind on loop. Maybe he was right; was she really prepared to face the wrath of Lionel Luthor? She turned her attention to her father. If her dad felt any trepidation, Chloe couldn't see it. 

"Dad, do you think maybe I did the wrong thing, you know, by coming forward?" she asked him. She hadn't realized the extent that whistle-blowing would have an affect on herself - and her dad. 

"Chloe, I've always encouraged you to be a champion of truth. You know that." 

"So, you're not sorry about...all of this?" 

He paused, sighed a little, and turned to her, placing his hand on her lap. "I'm sorry that we live in a world with people like Lionel Luthor. But, anytime you take the high road it's a risk. Sometimes it takes a little courage, a little faith. But you did the right thing." He nodded encouragingly, then nudged her with his elbow and flashed a little grin. "Don't look so glum, pumpkin, it's gonna all work out in the end." He even laughed a little. 

Chloe tried to match his optimistic expression, and returned a toothless smile. Tottering down the road, however, she thought back to Lex's harrowing ordeal in Belle Reve and the many times Lionel had gotten off for a host of atrocities scot free. She was beginning to have the first traces of doubt. Maybe she had been too impetuous. 

She turned to her father again to find him...asleep? No, his eyes were closed in a reflective countenance. She hoped he didn't feel that he had to be strong for her. Perhaps he secretly felt that she _had_ gone too far. After some decisions she had made recently, she was growing less and less confident about her instincts. She couldn't help but think how her own actions had set this whole thing in motion to begin with. If she had never teamed with Lionel, she would have never been under his seemingly interminable grip. If she had never gone to Lex about Lachlan Luthor, he would probably never have investigated his grandparents' past. And he would have never known his father murdered them. 

Sure, a lot of other people had done a lot of things to make this whole drama transpire, but still... 

The SUV came to a stop. 

"Ready, lady?" Gabe asked, smile firmly restored. Chloe nodded and hopped out. She felt she should tip the agents, or at least thank them, but tipping was obviously inappropriate, and they couldn't give her their names. 

She and Gabe ambled to the back, and unloaded their meager belongs that would have to sustain them for a while. She ascended the steps and prepared to enter the home that would act as her sanctuary for the coming months - and maybe longer. Gabe opened the door, and turned to give her a reassuring glance before stepping in. Chloe gave one final peek over her shoulder. 

Her body shuddered with a sickening dread as her eyes met one of the agents'. 

In an instant, her paralyzing doubt returned ferociously, and she was consumed with one final thought: 

What was she doing? 

**THE END**


End file.
